


Casting Stones

by naturesinmyeye



Series: Flower Series - Choose Your Own Bouquet Tumblr Thank Yous [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gift Fic, Lady Sansa gets naughty, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-27 16:42:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5056096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naturesinmyeye/pseuds/naturesinmyeye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A smutty one shot for irismoon for the Flowers Thank You Challenge on Tumblr. Irismoon picked irisis ( your friendship means so much to me), tulips (perfect lover), and orchids (refinement, beautiful lady, many children) for her bouquet. And this is the result.</p><p>Sansa doesn't believe in casting stones but what they tell her leads to some very exiting times between her and her husband. She's been playing the lady in bed and it's time for that to change. Pretty much porn with out a whole lot of plot. I do believe this is a first for me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Casting Stones

**Author's Note:**

  * For [irismoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/irismoon/gifts).



The old crone beckoned to Sansa. The woman’s cloak was such a dark blue that it was hard to realize that was the original shade; so deep and rich it sucked in all light around it, making it look black. It looked like Sandor’s hair. Where was her lord husband? Sansa no longer saw his head above everyone else’s in the crowd. She still had three guards nearby, yet she longed for her husband’s presence. Sansa always felt safest with him near.

 

“My Lady,” the crone called to her, “a reading for you? The stones are warm and want casting.”

 

Sansa sighed. Peasant silliness it seemed. But it _was_ a festival. And she should at least try to enjoy herself. Spring had come and the gates of Winterfell had opened to the neighboring lands. The first of many celebrations was underway. People from hundreds of miles away had come to trade, sell, eat, drink and make merry. Earlier she had nibbled on roasted chunks of dove’s breast on sticks while she had watched a juggling act. Sandor had been with her then. Sansa had lingered at a table selling perfumes and when she had turned around he was gone.

 

Once more the robed woman called to her and Sansa made up her mind to sit. She didn’t have to believe anything the old woman told her. She was only passing time until Sandor returned to her, she thought to herself. The chair beneath her creaked with age. The old woman cackled and grinned at her.

 

“Oh, it’s fine day for a reading my Lady!” the woman laughed, “you’ll see. The stones have been calling your name to me all day!”

 

“I’ve never done this,” Sansa confessed. “I don’t really believe in it. Is it true the stones can tell you the future?”

 

“Future, past. What is and what isn’t. What has happened and what still may happen. The stones tell many stories.”

 

There was a small leather pouch between the two of them, brown and cracked with years of handling. The crone bid Sansa to place her hands over top of it.

 

“Think on a question or person if you like and let us see what the stones will tell us,” the old woman spoke.

 

Sansa tried to concentrate on a question but her mind had drawn a blank. And the only person she wished to think upon was Sandor. But was that right? Should she drag him into a game of superstition without his knowledge?  So she thought on him _and_ her instead. They had been married for half a year now. She was happy and thought that he was as well. There were no signs of children. Her moon blood flowed at the moment. They each wanted children and every month after their wedding night had been a disappointment to them both. Sandor was kind to her though. He never blamed her or grew angry with her. In fact, it seemed every month he tried harder at putting a babe in her.

 

Children. Yes! Children was the question she wanted answered. When would they be blessed with them?

 

The pouch was moved from under Sansa’s hands. While the old woman shook it gently, she hummed a low tone and closed her eyes. Sansa bit her lip nervously. Was she supposed to close her eyes as well? But then the woman was turning the bag over and a shower of stones fell onto the table between them. Some scattered and bounced while others seemed to instantly glue themselves to the table. There was a circle etched onto the crone’s table. Some of the stones had rolled outside of it. Each stone was as different shape or color. Some had lines, dots or shapes written on them.

 

“We don’t use these,” the woman told her, sweeping the errant stones back into her bag. “The circle does not want them.”

 

“What is the circle?” Sansa questioned.

 

“That which the Lady has asked. The stones inside it hold the answer.”

 

Sansa wondered how the old woman knew she had asked a question and not thought on a person but kept silent. Perhaps she didn’t want to know. It all seemed somehow daring to be reading stones to try and catch a glimpse into the future.

 

“You are married?” the crone asked and Sansa nodded her head. “Yes, a married woman and yet the Maiden sits here at the center instead of the Mother.” The old woman pointed to a small white pebble in the very center of the circle.

 

“What’s that one?” Sansa said, pointing at a square, red rock next to the maiden stone.

 

“The Warrior,” the crone told her, smiling. “And your Lord husband I’d wager.” Sansa looked down at her lap, amazed that the stones could tell the woman so much with so very little to look at. “A Maiden and a Warrior wed and no babes within the circle. It is sad to think on sometimes?”

 

Sansa felt her eyes fill with tears. She _was_ sad. Sandor wanted children; as did she. She was young and healthy. There should have been some sign of one by now.

 

“Is there . . .” Sansa paused and sniffed. “Is there something wrong with me?”

 

The old woman reached a hand across the table to pat at Sansa’s own. “There is and there isn’t, my Lady,” the woman warned.

 

“What is it?” Sansa cried, trembling in her seat. She would be able to bear him children wouldn’t she? If not she would never stop weeping!

 

“Be calm my Lady, all is well,” the woman hushed. “You see this one?” The woman pointed to a stone with many dots on it just barely inside the circle. “This one is abundance. The one next to it is youth. There is a chance at many young ones but see how far away they lay from you and your Warrior husband? They are not yet close and you must bring them near.”

 

“But how?” Sansa wailed. “We already lie together. Isn’t that all that can be done?”

 

“Does he have you often?” the crone asked, grinning. Sansa blushed. This wasn’t any of the woman’s business! And yet she felt her head nod quickly.

 

“The stones that lie near the Warrior, you see them?”  The woman pointed to each in turn as she continued to explain, “This one is strength. This one virility. This one stands for the perfect lover. His heart is wide open and his seed is strong.”

 

“Then why am I not with child?” Sansa snapped back angrily.

 

“Because the stones near the Maiden aren’t quite as kind,” the crone spoke. “Ice, hesitation and fear lay next to the Maiden. Do you deny your husband in bed?”

 

“No, never!” Sansa answered adamantly. Then she lowered her voice. “We enjoy each other. I’m not ice and fear. I swear it!”

 

“Ah, but you didn’t deny hesitation!” the crone cackled gleefully. “See this stone here. And the other beside it. The ones that connect the Warrior and the Maiden? Those are scales and lust. Tell me where does the balance of pleasure lie within your marriage bed?”

 

“I don’t . . . I don’t understand,” Sansa stammered. Truly she didn’t. Sandor always seemed pleased. She was most nights as well. Sandor took care with her and she made sure to lie however he positioned her.

 

“Does your Lord husband touch you?” the woman asked. “Does he use his hands on your teats? Place his fingers in you. Use his mouth on you?”

 

Sansa’s hand flew to her lips. The crone was speaking in ways they ought not to. A Lady didn’t discuss such matters! Not with a stranger! Or _anyone_ in her case, Sansa suddenly realized. The old woman gave her a knowing look.

 

“Do you do the same for your Lord husband as he does for you? Aye, you lie and take his seed but do you give him any true heat back for all his effort? You have not given him everything. You have not given him passion, my Lady, and for that reason your body has not opened to him fully.”

 

“But,” Sansa continued to stammer on confused, “how do I _do_ that?”

 

The crone threw her head back and laughed. “Do what he has done for you. Use your hands. Your mouth. Whatever you can. Worship his body as he has for you. Spark the kindle in his loins and it will catch fire in your womb.”

 

“My moon blood is upon me,” Sansa whispered.

 

“All the better!” the crone assured her. “That will keep his hands off you. Or might not! But this is an opportune time to start. Instead of lying next to him cold and still, warm him this evening and see if there’s not a babe soon to follow.”

 

“But . . . a man can spill? Without being inside his wife?”

 

“Of course he can! You are a sweet innocent still, aren’t you! You listen well now, child. Take him in your hand or use your mouth but mind your teeth! You watch what happens. And if you falter ask him, child. Do you see this last stone, the one that hovers above the maiden and warrior? That is friendship. Ask your Lord husband to teach you and he will do so. You are good friends above all else, yes?”

 

Sansa smiled and nodded. She could do this. At least she thought she could. The acts the old woman spoke of had entered her head as of late. The kitchen help and her maids chattered behind their hands but she heard some of their talk. She often wondered what it was like to hold a man in one’s hand till he begged or to press one’s lips to that fiery length that made her woman’s heat feel so very good.  Sandor had brought her to pleasure many times with his mouth between her legs. She could do the same for him couldn’t she? It was alright for a Lady to commit such acts with her husband wasn’t it?

 

“There you are!” A loud voice boomed and Sansa jumped in her seat, letting out a surprised squeak. She recovered quickly though.

 

“Here _I_ am?” Sansa said to her husband. “You’re the one who went missing! Don’t act as if I did wrong by running away.”

 

Sandor grinned at her. “Man’s got to piss sometime. Can’t do it in the yard with all these fools about. Had to go in the house.”

 

There had been improvements over the years. Sansa was certain when she had first met him he would have pulled his cock out and taken his relief on the first tent he could find. Now at least he tried to go find a suitable place to do so.

 

“What’s all this,” Sandor asked, pointing at the table and letting his lip curl. “You letting her fill your head with stories?”

 

“Not stories m’lord. Truth and advice. And you’ll be glad for it later,” the crone answered back.

 

“Is that some kind of threat, hag?” Sandor barked, letting his hand fall to the handle of his sword.

 

“Sandor!” Sansa cried. “It was only a bit of fun! Please, she was kind to me.”

 

Sandor grumbled something about stones going in places Sansa was certain were not proper spaces for them to go. He turned his back and hollered for her to come with him as he strolled away. Sansa stood and looked to the old woman with an apology in her eye. The crone grabbed her sleeve as she made to leave and whispered in her ear one last time.

 

“You see the fire there! You can bend that as you please! Shape it as the smith does his ironwork and you will be a mother soon. Spark the kindling, my Lady, and there a will be a fire only time and age can quench.”

 

……………………………………………………………………………………………..

 

 

Sansa sat with an untouched piece of embroidery in her lap. She had come to the chambers she and Sandor shared near two hours ago. First, she had bathed in their copper tub, putting extra oil in the water to leave her skin soft and sweet smelling. Her finest dress was not Sandor’s favorite. He liked it best when she wore yellow, so she had pulled an older frock from her chest. It was short sleeved and had an immense amount of buttons. It took ages to do them all up but she knew it to be his favorite so she took the time needed to seal her self inside it. Underneath she wore her finest smallclothes and made sure to place plenty of torn cloth inside them to protect them from her woman’s blood.

 

Pink silks clung to her curves, under the dress and made her look irresistible. She should know. He’d taken her swiftly every time she had worn this particular set in the past. She did want to please him. She always had but she’d never been certain how to do so and she never had quite gotten the courage to try until now. The excuse of her moon blood was an opportune time to try.

 

Usually, Sandor always distracted her so that she forgot all about trying to touch and tease him. They kissed and she felt the muscles of his arms and back as he moved within her. A few times she had put her hand around him. He had actually whimpered, which caused her stomach to tense and her heat to drip with wetness. But he always clutched at her wrist, bringing her touch back up to his chest. Then he would do something marvelous with his tongue and she would forget to try and touch him again.

 

But not tonight! She was determined that she would offer him a taste of all he’d given her over the past few months. Sucking in a breath, she saw that she had stuck her finger with her needle. She should stop. There was no work getting done and now she’d pricked herself wondering through her careless daydreams.

 

The door to their chambers opened suddenly. Sandor gave her a nod and made his way around the room, collecting various items. He gathered soap from a dish, a fresh set of cloths, and reached over her head to grab at his dressing robe behind her. He was going to go bathe. Whenever she had her moon blood he took to the baths downstairs instead of washing in their room. And he spent an awfully long time there. Sansa was beginning to suspect why.

 

As he pulled the robe from around her, he ducked quickly to kiss the top of her head. _Now or never girl._ Sansa tilted her head up, dropping her sewing and grasping at his hair. She pressed her lips fast to his and started to nip at his lower lip. She knew he liked that.

 

“Little Bird?” he chuckled into her mouth. She saw him take in the sight of his favorite dress with the many buttons. “You alright?” he asked pointedly, looking towards her heat meaningfully.

 

“It still flows but I thought . . .” she started, her mouth going dry. What were the right words to say? “I thought perhaps you would like to bathe here? I could help?”

 

Something changed in his eyes. Amusement swiftly changed to something stormy; something close to danger that might have alarmed her years ago. Now it intrigued her and made her clothes seem entirely too tight.

 

“Aye, might be you could,” he said cautiously. “And what would you help with?”

 

“I could wash and dry you,” she spat out quickly, before her nerves could get the better of her. “I could touch you, please you and  . . .” she trialed off, watching him storm away from her. Had she done something wrong? He ripped the door open shouting into the hallway for her handmaiden, Nessie. The girl appeared quickly, giving a curtsy.

 

“M’lord?” the girl asked.

 

“Tell the kitchen boys to bring water. Hot water for the bath,” Sandor ordered.

 

“Yes m’lord. How much will you be wanting?”

 

“All of it!” he shouted, slamming the door in the poor girls face.

 

“You shouldn’t have done that-“ Sansa began but found her words cut off when his lips crashed into her. He’d moved so fast across the room! She could feel his hands working their way up her jaw while he moved against her mouth. It was nice. It was more than nice but he was doing exactly as he shouldn’t. He was giving and she was receiving and it was exactly what the old crone had warned her about. She pulled back from him and he growled at her.

 

“Be still,” she hushed. “Let me tend to you as a wife should.” Sandor eyed her with curiosity as she circled him, pulling on the buckles of his sword and daggers. She had to climb a chair to start at his gorget. If she got stuck he lifted his hands to help but she smacked them away and told him to be still again. He ground his teeth at her but did as he was told. She had gotten him out of all his armor except for his greaves when the kitchen boys arrived; five of them total and each carrying buckets in both hands. The tub in their room soon filled with water.

 

Sansa swirled the water with a hand, adding some of her oils to the tub. She chose a more earthy scent and not the ones that smelled of flowers and fruit. When she turned around Sandor had stripped down to his breeches. His fingers reached for the ties.

 

“Stop!” she heard herself shout. She walked back over to him and placed her hands on his chest. “Please, love, let me.” He was breathing hard through his mouth and staring her right in the eye. Sansa didn’t think she’d ever seen him quite so focused before. She let her hands trial down his stomach and over the ties of his breeches. His eyes fell shut and his hips thrust out to her. This! This is what she had been after. Opening the ties to his breeches, she slipped a hand inside. He was hot, not quite hard yet but getting there. Her fingers wrapped around him and he thrust again into her hand. There was a grunt from above her. She took her hand from him.

 

“Don’t bloody well stop!” he barked while she grinned. Yes, this was exactly what she had wanted from him.

 

“Bath first, love,” she teased, stretching to splash water out of the tub at him. Then she pulled at the cloth around his hips, baring all of him to her.

 

“Take your dress off,” he instructed, while sinking down into the tub. “In front of me. Want to watch.”

 

She did as he asked, moving to the foot of the tub and starting in on the row of tiny, ivory buttons on her dress. Sansa blushed as he leaned back in the tub and gazed at her. She’d never done this before. Not quite like this. Not with him doing nothing but staring.  Pealing the dress down her body slowly, she stepped lightly from the cloth.

 

“Gods, woman,” he swore. One of his hands had sunk below the water level. She quickly drove her hand down into the water to remove his hand from himself. He rose onto his knees to latch onto her neck with his lips. Sansa gasped and gripped the side of the tub. She was bent over it, her teats swaying freely over the steaming water. She never dreamed it would be such a struggle to remain the one in control.

 

Taking one hand from the tub’s side she plunged it down in the water to find him stiff. Pulling hard she heard him draw in a sharp breath. She waited.

 

“Do it again,” he growled.

 

“Sit and I will,” she commanded. He licked her ear first before throwing himself down once more in the tub. The splash of water that followed soaked her front. Her teats now covered in wet silk, they were both panting, waiting on her next move. She did as she promised, taking him in hand again and pulling at his manhood with force. One hand still on him, she reached for a small cloth with the other. Sandor’s head was back against the wall of the tub, his eyes closed again. Sansa took the rag in both hands to start scrubbing at her husband’s chest. His eyes snapped open.

 

“You stopped,” he snarled at her.

 

“I said I’d wash you.”

 

“Fucks sake! Don’t need washing.”

 

Sansa tucked her head down to her chest and giggled. She hadn’t heard him curse this much in one span of time in a long while. She knew it a sign that he was losing control. Usually of his temper but she was quite certain he wasn’t angry now.

 

“Not even here?” she teased, lowering the cloth down his body and back to his cock. Her hand, now covered in rough fabric stroked him. There was a noise in his throat. A choking sort of whimper. She froze. Had she hurt him?

 

“Stop . . . stopping!” he bellowed. “Please woman. Don’t stop.”

 

A woman _could_ make a man beg using only her hands! Sansa was thrilled with her new knowledge. The head of him lifted out of the water he was so swollen. He’d never let her do this to him before and Sansa could feel moisture between her legs that had nothing to do with moon blood. Keeping her grip tight, she shifted onto her knees so she could use both hands on him with ease. Both his hands gripped the sides of the tub. His knuckles had gone white.  His breathing was nothing but ragged gasps and his eyes were shut again.

 

“This is alright?” she asked one more time to be sure what she did was correct and wanted.

 

“Aye, aye!” he shouted, “Don’t you dare fucking stop again!”

 

With his eyes shut, Sansa grew bolder. She watched his manhood sink and rise above the water as he thrust his hips over and over again. She squeezed and tugged at him while he groaned with pleasure. In a moment of pure impulsiveness she lowered her head and gave a wet kiss to the tip of it when it poked out above the water during a thrust. And suddenly her hair was being pulled while she yelped in surprise. He had her by her red locks; not in a hurtful manner but it was hard for her to move. Sandor looked to the water, to her lips and back again. Then he was rising, his hands out of her hair and on her arms instead. He was pulling her towards the bed, his cock engorged with lust.

 

He was soaking the furs beneath him as he flopped on top of their bed. She was wet; on the front of her small clothes and between her thighs. Sandor looked at her while tugging on her hand. _Don’t stop,_ he had told her. So she lifted herself onto the bed beside him, kneeling once more and lowered her self down to his length. She gave the head of him a slow kiss with her lips. Pretending it was his mouth she moved her lips and darted her tongue out to lick at him.

 

“Yes,” she heard him hiss between his teeth. She had no idea at all what she was doing but it seemed to be something right. Sandor was moaning her name in a way she’d ever heard before. It sounded almost as if he were crying, but his eyes were dry when she turned her head to the side and looked at him.

 

“Both,” he shuddered. “Use both.”

 

Putting one hand back around him she moved her wrist up and down the length of him. Feeling brave from his enthusiastic response, she opened her mouth to slide an inch of him into her. He cried out harshly. Sandor Clegane, the most fearsome warrior in all of Westeros, writhed and begged and babbled beneath her. She liked this new game! The old crone had been right! There was a piece that had been missing between them.

 

Sandor was almost thrashing beneath her. His cock was hard as stone and bobbed along her tongue. Sansa thought about the time she’d suckled on his ear. He had seemed to enjoy that. She puckered her lips and tried to do what she’d done on his ear to his cock.

 

“Ah, Gods!” he near screamed. “Move! Move!” He continued on shouting at her, using one hand to pull her face away from him. His other hand found hers still around him and helped her to pump him fiercely. He bucked hard and snorted through his nose while ribbons of milky fluid flew from his manhood onto his stomach, her teats and the furs. Was that what he did inside her? Sansa was mesmerized by the threads of seed covering them both. Sandor continued to twitch and moan.

 

“Was that acceptable, my husband?” Sansa laughed, knowing full well the answer. He laughed with her.

 

“Mmmm,” he sighed. “Might need that washing now.”

 

There was no moon blood after that night. Nine months passed and Sansa gave birth to a girl with blue eyes and black hair. She was the first of ten. The old crone had been right all along. Passion was the secret they had to learn before they were blessed with little ones.

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
